Darkness upon us
by redprint
Summary: Scully is a top-notch surgeon, Mulder is a bestselling author. They live a fulfilling and cozy life, but a case from their past and an unexpected invitation threatens to shatter their world. Post-IWTB. Rated M (and I mean M).


TITLE: Darkness upon us

AUTHOR: redprint (also redprintiam)

RATING: T

KEYWORDS: MSR, Angst, Humour, post-IWTB, slightly AU.

SUMMARY: Mulder is a bestselling author and Scully a top-notch surgeon. They live in Washington, D.C. when an invite threatens to shatter their domestic bliss. Post-IWTB, slightly AU, true to the characters and show. Rated M (and I mean M).

SPOILERS: Hard spoilers for Irresistible, Orison and IWTB.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it! And, please, leave a comment.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

* * *

Chapter 1: Darkness Rises

GEORGETOWN RESIDENTIAL AREA, WASHINGTON D.C.

MULDER AND SCULLY'S HOME

04-10-2015

8.00 a.m.

»We were summoned,« he threw some old files on the table and looked at her.

»They asked us to take a look, Mulder.« A reprimand was hidden between her words.

»Yeah, we know how well that went last time,« he retorted, his voice bitter.

She looked away from him and pressed her lips into a thin line. They both thought the old days were forgotten, the FBI only a dim memory. And now, a morning in April not different from any other before, brought news that shook up their world of domestic peace and privacy.

_The darkness finds you and me_. He said it to her when she wanted a way out of it all.

»I'm not asking you to do it this time,« she searched for his eyes and met his upsetting stare.

»But you're going to do it?« He wasn't going to just let it pass – her blatant disregard of her own promises. He nearly died last time and she nearly left him.

»They want me to go through the autopsy reports. That's all.« She zipped her suitcase.

»Sure, and they just want me to take a look at some old files,« he added. He was looking her intently while she was putting on her coat. A silver grey piece of expensive fabric that fitted her perfectly. He always wanted to fuck her wearing just that coat. He shook his head slightly to admonish his own thoughts.

She was oblivious of his words. Tucking her hair behind her left ear, she just stood there, defying his arguments with deaf silence and avoiding his darkening eyes.

It angered him to see her this relaxed when she knew what he was talking about. »Files we worked on when we were still FBI agents, Scully,« he raised his voice to get her attention.

She turned to him suddenly, her stare unforgiving. »I remember the case, Mulder,« she hissed, »it's not something I could forget even if I wanted to.« Her eyes clouded instantly at the thought of Donnie Pfaster. She never got over the fact that she killed him. He was a monster, depraved and out of control. He would have killed again. But that didn't chase away the guilt she felt. The silent guilt that haunts those who believe it is not a man's right to take life. And now a sick delusional individual was killing women in the same exact way.

»That's exactly my point, Scully,« he felt bad for bringing it up but they couldn't kid each other when it came to Donnie Pfaster. »You never fully recovered from those events.«

»Those events,« she repeated bitterly. »You can use the words 'kidnapping, death fetish, murder'. There's no need to be protective.«

He sighed, felling exasperated. She never lit a candle in the bathroom again, never wanted to use the same brand of shampoo, and bought a new bathtub. And now she wanted to help with this case.

She looked tired to him, soft wrinkles curving around the corners of her lips. She looked her usual self just moments ago. Composed, focused, relaxed. But not now. Something unsettling pervaded her look, an old fear resuscitating from another life and nestling deep into her soul.

He bit his lip trying to think of something that would make her walk away from this case. But his mind was blank when it came to Pfaster.

He took the file, sitting atop of others. It red "Case number #8287456, Donnie Pfaster". He opened it and skimmed through unimportant paragraphs. There, he found it. He looked her in the eyes, into that storming blue that sliced his soul into tiny helpless parts that wanted just to belong to her. He started to read in a gentle voice. »Agent Scully was kidnapped by Donnie Pfaster for the first time in 1995. Her partner, agent Fox Mulder, managed to save her from imminent death. It is safe to assume, taking into account the psychological profile provided by agent Mulder, that Pfaster wanted to finish the ordeal he started in 1995. He entered unseen into agent Scully's apartment and waited for her to go to sleep. Despite agent Scully's efforts to stop him, he was able to gag and tie her. He followed his established M.O. He arranged the bathroom with lit candles, drew a bath and chose a shampoo to wash the victim's hair. Agent Scully -,"

»Stop it,« she hissed.

But he went on, »...fought hard against the restraints on her wrists, and eventually freed herself. She fired -,«

»Stop it, Mulder!«

»Why?« he asked wryly, lowering the file down.

She opened her mouth to say something but looked down to her feet instead. It didn't happen often that one of the finest surgeons in Washington, D.C. couldn't bare a challenge.

»I have to go to work,« she lifted her suitcase and searched her pocket for her car keys. She squeezed them hard when she felt them. The cool unbending metal dented her skin.

He exhaled heavily and nodded. He learned a long time ago that she didn't like to be bossed into things... or out of them.

Her 'I'm fine, Mulder,' came out as a weak excuse.

He shrugged and placed the file back on the table. »I guess I'll see you later. Send my regards to Doctor Richardson.«

She gave him the eye and he lifted up his hands instantly.

»Say 'hi' to Susanna for me,« she backfired.

It amused him how jealous they could be at each other. Even though they both knew they could never be unfaithful to one another there was always this unexplainable nagging concern about other people interfering with their lives. And it all started after they returned to D.C.

Cleared of all charges, he didn't have to hide anymore. Soon after the case with the FBI was closed, he asked her if she would go back to D.C. with him.

She was sceptical at first. She really made a difference at the Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital. But it all changed when she got an invitation to join the surgical team at Medstar Georgetown University Hospital. Her doubts slowly dissipated. And it was D.C., their former home, she told herself.

They were having lunch at a bistro in town when she told him about Medstar. »They heard of my work with stem cells. How I cured that boy of Sandhoff disease.«

»That's great, Scully,« he smiled, mouth full of French fries. He had no idea what she was talking about exactly.

»Yes, it is. They invited me to join them,« she waited for his reaction.

His eyes widened and he almost choked. »A surgeon at Medstar?«

She nodded, unable to hide her excitement.

»Waiter?« he called across the bistro.

»Oh, Mulder, please, don't do something embarrassing,« she pleaded.

»Check, please,« he said when the waiter approached him.

Two months hadn't passed and they already relocated to Georgetown, D.C.

»What will you do?« she asked him when they settled into her old apartment. His was sold long before.

»Write,« he replied.

»What?« He had to be kidding her.

»You told me to put it in a book,« he arched his brows at her.

»Mulder?« she followed him in the kitchen.

»What?« he sounded irritated, but she knew better.

»That's really what you want?« she asked, her voice incredulous.

»Oh, no, Scully, don't get me wrong. I still want the moon and the stars,« he grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes, »I think you'll do just fine as a writer, Mulder.«

That was four years ago. His book on paranormal phenomena backed by a scientific approach - something he learned from her - and his psychological insights turned out to be an international bestseller. Something he did not tried to achieve or looked forward to, if truth be told. Too much attention, he told his manager Susanna. But Susanna Reich disagreed and asked him to write another book. Something you like, she said.

An Introduction to Evil saw the light of the world in 2014, critics went reeling and Susanna sent him a big thank you note, kissed with her red lips. Mulder knew he was in trouble.

»I see you're quite friendly with your manager,« she said casually when they were celebrating his latest book success. It was a Saturday evening in November.

His smile was contrite, »There's nothing between us.«

»I wasn't implying there was,« she replied calmly. »Unless there's something you want to tell me.«

»I just did,« he almost squealed and she smiled inwardly. It was her game, a pastime, really. Turning him into a ball of pent up pressure. »She just sent me a thank you note.«

»Really? How come I never get a thank you note?« Oh, she was grilling him now.

He looked dumbfounded. »Scully...,« he whispered weakly, his brows furrowing.

»Yes?« she was so in control.

»Stop it,« he tried to regain some male dignity.

»Why, Mulder? Does it bother you?« she asked innocently.

»Yes, it does,« he looked firmly at her.

»Maybe now you'll stop bitching about Richardson,« she snapped at him.

That caught him off-guard. Kyle Richardson, the greatest son of a bitch at Medstar. His lips thinned, »That's different.«

»Really?« she couldn't believe him. »How so?«

»He made a pass on you,« he insisted stubbornly.

»He invited me to take a drink with him, Mulder. That's hardly making a pass.« Was he really that jealous?

»It was ten in the evening, all the others went home.«

»It was after a very difficult surgery. He needed to decompress. And he was really embarrassed when you told him to take a hike instead,« she looked at him wide-eyed. Surely, he understood how difficult it was to be a surgeon sometimes.

»I'm sure he did, the little fucker,« he murmured back.

»Maybe I should send a 'thank you note' to Susanna,« she warned him.

He lifted his eyebrows. Would she? He'd rather not find out. »Point taken, Scully.«

Donnie Pfaster. He looked down at those files she left for him. It wasn't enough what he did to her while still alive. No, the damned sick bastard was hunting her from the grave, too. He sat down reluctantly and went through the victims photos. Women between age 20 and 40, educated or without education, single or in a relationship, long or short red hair... He opened another file and examined the mutilated bodies. Fingers cut off, nails painted red, missing locks of hair.

He knew it couldn't be Donnie Pfaster, but there was something deeply upsetting about the killings. He read agent Peet Kessler's report. Nothing stood out at first sight. And yet the M.O. was identical in both cases. As if Pfaster found a way to cheat death.

He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the murders. Images of murdered women flashed before his eyes, red nails, locks of hair ... small fetishes taken after death... gagged bodies, tied hands... Scully in a closet...

His eyes bolted open. Anger flooded his heart. He hated to admit that it still affected him this much. He breathed in and exhaled heavily. How about an introduction to evil now?

His phone rang. Susanna. Christ, her timing was always bad.

»Hey, Susanna. What's up?« he feigned light-heartedness.

»Umm, hi, Fox,« her mouth was full obviously, »sorry to bother you. Did you see the cover of the Washington post?«

»No, why?« This cannot be good, he thought.

»It's about the bizarre murders in Fairfax, Mount Pleasant and all those other places. Are you really going to help them out?« There was clearly a streak of excitement in her voice.

Dammit, he thought. He didn't want the press involved. Or Susanna. Or anyone else for that matter.

»Well?« Susanna pressed.

»Well, Susanna, I haven't decided yet. Why is this cover material, anyway?« he asked.

»Oh, because of your past, of course. It says something about an X-file unit where you two supposedly worked and solved a similar case. And being both prominent members of society now, the public will certainly want to know more. That's journalism nowadays, Fox. And let's not forget that the latest victim is senator Bradden's daughter.«

He still had to get used to the fact that he and Scully were 'prominent members of society now'. His books brought fame and money, her job granted status, money and respect. But it could all change quickly into a nightmare if someone dug deeper into the Pfaster case. And Bradden's daughter kidnapping wasn't helping in any way.

»Does it say anything more than that?« he asked casually.

»No. Should it?« she asked.

»No, no,« he replied calmly.

»You should help them, Fox,« her voice had a salesman itch. »It'd be good for business.«

It'd be bad for Scully, he thought. »I'll keep that in mind. Thank you.«

He ended the call with a bitter sigh. If it got out that it wasn't exactly self-defence all the way through... He felt sick just thinking of it. He inhaled heavily, trying to calm his mind. Jesus, why was she so stubborn about this case?

He could recall very well what he told her that sad day and apparently it came back to haunt them both. _The way I see it... he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that... in case you're worried._

He looked at his laptop. The little vertical line was blinking on the screen at the end of the sentence. He wanted to write an article for Psychology Today about the role of a hunch in profiling serial killers. It read 'The mind is a complex set of rational and irrational '. He didn't get to finish it because Susanna called. And now he didn't feel like continuing it. How could he write about the irrational to a bunch of people that glorified the rational in all things?

Screw it, he thought and closed down the laptop lid.

»Pushkin,« he yelled. »Come on, buddy.«

A golden brown cairn terrier came running to the kitchen. »Good boy,« he patted his back, »let's go for a walk.«

VOLTA PARK, 34th St NW

04-10-2015

10.30 am

»Hello, Mr Mulder.«

He turned abruptly to the unrecognizable, yet familiar voice. An older man sat next to him on the bench.

»Kritschgau?« he asked carefully.

The man nodded. "I was told I would find you here.« He was a shadow of his good years.

»Who told you that?« Mulder inquired.

»The waitress at Gio's,« Kritschgau replied calmly.

»Right,« Mulder commented. He told Mia he was going for a walk in the park with Pushkin when he left the café.

»So you've been following me,« Mulder went on.

»If you want to put it that way,« he replied disinterested.

»Drop the act Kritschgau,« Mulder's voice hardened, »we both now it's not a visit of courtesy.«

»No, it's not,« he admitted.

Pushkin barked at a group of kids passing by.

»They are going to reopen the X-Files.«

»What?« Mulder hissed.

Kritschgau nodded, looking in front of him. »A source told me just yesterday that there have been some new developments.«

»Is Skinner in?« Mulder asked.

»Yes, he's the newly appointed director,« Kritschgau replied.

»So it's him behind all this?« Mulder muttered. »Our involvement in the copycat case?«

»Yes, but that's not why I'm here,« Kritschgau continued.

»What do you mean?« Mulder looked at him.

»Your life is in danger, Mulder,« Kritschgau's brows furrowed slightly. »Skinner wants you back on the X-Files. Permanently. He says he won't work with anyone else.«

What? Mulder's patience started to fade. »What if I'm not interested? Did they think of that?«

»Of course, you can always decline," Kritschgau agreed. "But I hardly doubt you will let go of the X-Files, your life's work.«

»Don't you dare go there, Kritschgau!« Mulder raised his voice. "You know very well what Scully and I went through to keep the X-Files open."

Kritschgau flinched, »Lower your voice.«

Mulder stared at him, »Than explain to me why would I want to return and why would anyone want to kill me now.«

»Because there are those who don't want you back, not even for this one case. It's all about transparency these days which means they can't afford you. And your fame makes it ten times worse. They'd be pulled in the spotlight with you. We both know that this country cannot take any more Snowdens."

Mulder considered his words for a moment. He never thought of himself as a whistleblower, but he probably fitted the description perfectly with his incessant proclamations that the public should know the Truth. But to kill him just for rejoining the X-Files? Even he couldn't buy that.

»Who's the source?«

"He's FBI,« Kritschgau replied.

"I need a name, Kritschgau," Mulder insisted.

»I'm sorry, Mulder, that's all I can tell you,« Kritschgau got up and patted Pushkin on his back.

»Is it true that senator Bradden wants Scully and me in?«

»How do you -,« Kritschgau stopped mid-sentence. Mulder smiled.

»Oh, you're good, Mulder,« Kritschgau commented. »Yes, he does. He's a fan of yours, actually,« Kritschgau smiled.

Mulder smirked. He would never have thought it possible, him having fans.

»And the company you're working for?« Mulder asked.

»Rosh Intel, military services and consulting,« Kritschgau replied.

»Bradden's company. You should have told me right at the beginning,« Mulder smiled.

»Technically, his son is the majority owner.«

Mulder knew very well that Bradden's son was just a figure. His father was calling all the shots. He had enough of Kritschgau's good-intentions-talk.

He got up and looked at Kritschgau, »I think I had my fair share of info for today. If you don't mind I'd like to take a run with my dog.«

Kritschgau glared at him, »I'm not kidding, Mulder. The situation is serious. You're in danger.«

»It wouldn't be the first time. And I haven't said yes, yet,« he unleashed Pushkin. »Goodbye, Kritschgau.«

GEORGETOWN RESIDENTIAL AREA, WASHINGTON D.C.

MULDER AND SCULLY'S HOME

04-10-2015

18.00 p.m.

»A hunch at profiling serial killers,« Scully read on the screen. »Mulder?«

He smiled inwardly, »Yes, Scully?«

»You're not seriously thinking of giving it this title?« she sounded incredulous.

»Perhaps,« he replied slightly amused. He avoided her stare.

Her lips pursed, »Maybe you should. Fuck science and methodology. Who needs them, right?«

He turned to her. This wasn't just about the article.

»What's wrong, Scully?« he asked directly. He told her long ago that he was done pretending he didn't know her.

She looked at her hands and then back at him. »I got a call this morning at work.«

»Yes?« his interest peaked.

»A disturbing one,« she brushed her forehead with her hand.

He got nervous. He wasn't used seeing her so preoccupied, not anymore.

»What about?« he asked as gently as he could.

»A man hinted I could lose my job if I helped the FBI with the autopsy reports,« she almost whispered the last word.

What?! »Bastards,« he muttered. Just the fact that the caller knew what the exact task was made it pretty clear it wasn't some lowlife FBI bureaucrat behind the threats. No, this went straight up to the highest echelons of power within the Bureau, and probably outside of it, too.

Her eyes widened. »Do you know who it is?«

He sighed, »The FBI, Scully. And maybe some other informal group that happens to meet these days and discuss national security.«

»What?« she couldn't understand.

He brushed his forehead with his fingers.

»Mulder?« her eyes searched his.

»Kritschgau paid me a visit today in the park,« he waited for her reaction. Kritschgau was never good news for them.

Her lips parted slightly as if to process his words. »I can't do this, Mulder, not now,« she looked him in the eye. That unsettling feeling was back.

His jaw tightened. »Then leave it alone. Don't accept it,« his voice was hard and insisting. He never thought he'd be the one to say 'screw the X-Files', but then again he hadn't thought or imagined many things that had happened.

She looked at him with defeated eyes.

»Oh, Dana,« his heart contracted. He stepped closer, reached for her hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. »You don't owe them anything,« he whispered into her ear.

She circled her arms around his back, her head resting on his chest. »I need to do it, Mulder,« she whispered back.

His jaw tightened again, »Why?«

She sighed, »I've killed him so that it would stop... that he would stop killing other women. And now -,« her voice faded.

He circled his hand on her shoulder to soothe her silent suffering. »You did the right thing back then."

She breathed into his chest, »I'm so tired of all the threats and lies.« She pushed slightly away from him. »What did Kritschgau want exactly?«

He let go of her. "Apparently senator Bradden approached Skinner about reopening the X-Files," Mulder explained.

Her eyes widened, »Reopening the X-Files?"

He nodded, "Skinner is the newly appointed director."

"What's senator's Bradden interest in the X-Files?« she asked, her shock more than evident.

"His daughter is the latest victim. She was kidnapped in a parking lot. It's been in the news the whole day... and...," he hesitated, "...I've been also warned that my life is in danger." He paused to see her reaction.

"What?!" her tone raised.

He nodded, almost too calmly. "Skinner wants me back for good and that irks some important people at the Bureau. Kritschgau made it clear they are prepared to resort to extreme measures to keep me out.«

»Mulder, this is the FBI we're talking about. They don't just go and kill people around."

"Don't they? It's in the job description. And we've seen our fair share of unlawful killings back then."

She couldn't believe any of it. »So we ditch the whole thing.«

»It's not that simple,« he countered.

She ran her hand through her hair, »I've heard that one before.«

She was right. It never was simple for them. »Bradden wants us in,« he stated.

»You make it sound as if we owe him something. We barely know the man.«

»You're right, we don't know him. But Bradden is going over his head to include us in the investigation."

"How does he even know about the X-Files?" she asked.

»He was a good friend of senator Matheson. I guess Matheson told him about the X-Files during the investigation of the health funding bill -,"

»S.R. 819,« she finished for him.

»That's right,« he confirmed.

She pondered his words, »I don't know, Mulder. It seems like he's grooming you more than coercing you.«

Mulder bit his lip. It sure didn't feel like he was being groomed. »Rosh Intel is one of the major contributors to Medstar.«

»Rosh Intel?« she inquired, folding her hands.

»Bradden's family company. His oldest son, Liam Bradden, is the majority owner. I checked earlier,« he crossed his arms.

Her jaw set, »I see. And you think Bradden would cut off his contributions just to get back at us?"

He knew how good she was at rationalizing everything, but there was something odd about the whole situation, not just the case. "I think it could all get really complicated for all of us."

"I don't know, Mulder, but I think the money donations are far more intricate. There are lots of different interests.«

She was probably right, but he wasn't going to advocate their return to the X-Files, not when the stakes were so high. »I'm not the one who's cheering on joining the team, Scully. You are.«

»That's hardly fair, Mulder. I'm not cheering either,« she was offended by his choice of words.

He sighed. »I need to know why you want to help them so badly. There's no officer in distress this time and no good reason for us to go back,« his voice made it clear he wasn't prepared to compromise.

She swallowed and looked away from him. How could she tell him why when she was the one who had wanted a different kind of life? She looked back at him. »You're right. We should let it go.«

But he saw it in her eyes - the regret and sadness. »No, not like this. Not because I want it.« Her eyes begged him to leave the subject alone but he would have none of it. »Just tell me.«

She inhaled deeply and looked down at her hands. The most precious tool for a surgeon. »I need it back, Mulder.«

»Need what back?« he was getting impatient.

She had told only Karen Kosseff, the clinical social worker, back in 1995 how she felt about Pfaster. _I know the world is full of predators, just as it has always been. And I know it's my job to protect people from them. And I've counted on that fact to give me faith in my ability to do what I do... I want that faith back... I need it back._

»The faith he took from me,« she looked at him with clear but fragile eyes.

He was left speechless. He knew she suffered more than she let known when he first abducted her and then later when she killed him. But to hear her say that... »You don't mean that, Scully,« he almost whispered it.

She smiled bitterly, »I fought him and won, but not the way I wanted to.«

He wanted to tell her that there was no other way but she went on. »I wanted to conquer him within, never to kill him. The scars he left... they go much deeper than those few memories of lit candles, the shampoo scent and tied limbs... the horror he brought...« she couldn't finish.

He was still leaning against the cupboard, his arms crossed in evident refusal of what she was telling him. But the menacing fact that it was all true hanged upon them. They never really talked about Pfaster. He comforted her and tried to be there for her but she never opened up to him about it. He clenched his fists subconsciously. Had he known this back then he would have haunted Pfaster down himself and killed him with his bare hands.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked gently, trying really hard to hide how hurt he was.

»I couldn't tell you,« her voice faded.

»Why?« he asked softly.

She sighed deeply, »I didn't want you to think you had to protect me.«

His chest tightened. »Oh, Scully,« he shook his head. »Always trying to be the strongest... to prove you're equal.«

She looked at him with glossy eyes, »What are you trying to say?«

He ran his hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. »You're the strongest person I know. Not because you choose over and over again not to show your feelings, but because you rise after every fall. Again and again. I'm not like that. If it weren't for you I'd have quit the FBI long before we were forced to.«

She swallowed hard and sat down at the kitchen table. Her mind kept thinking only of Pfaster and his diabolic ability to inflict pain, »I never met his equal.«

His stare rose. She wasn't letting it go.

She stared right back at him, »It never occurred to me he might have had an apprentice."

He sighed, knowing he lost the battle. »It seems unlikely he did,« he replied, reluctantly.

»What then? A copycat after all these years?« she asked confused.

He sat down next to her. »Are you sure about this?«

She looked him in the eye and let out a single, »Yes.«

He nodded. »We'll have to be extremely careful.«

She nodded back, only partly relieved. She knew what they were getting into.

He sighed and walked to her. »It's okay,« he took her by the hand, "we're in this together."

She smiled and hugged him.

"We need to decompress," he whispered playfully and she chuckled in response.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked.

He lifted her up in his arms. "I want you relaxed and naked."

Her eyes widened, »Mulder!«

His lips curled and his gaze darkened. Nestled in his strong embrace like a young girl she would let him do whatever he wanted. He knew that she needed moments like this. Moments when she gave up control, entrusted him with her heart and soul. And he, by grace or works, knew what to do, how to act.

»Bathroom,« he simply stated and felt her fists clench at his shirt. Her imagination was kicking in.

He entered the spacious bathroom and put her down on her legs. »Get in the shower,« he commanded after he undressed her.

Her figure was delicate and elegant, in stark contrast with her sharp and uncompromising intellect.

»Put your hands against the wall and wait for me,« he instructed her.

She nodded, more to herself than to him, and placed her hands against the cold marble. She was thankful that she didn't have to speak. It was liberating.

He made her wait on purpose. Seconds turned into long minutes as she got lost in her thoughts.

»I'm here,« he breathed into her ear, snapping her out of her reverie and sending a razor-like shiver through her body.

He smiled against her skin as the shiver subsided. Her mind worked in wonderful ways and he had an insatiable need to explore them all.

His body pressed lightly into hers. He was wearing his boxers. »Lean against me,« he told her and she let her body fall gently back into him. He adjusted the shower fitting so that the warm water could hit her sensitive breasts. She sighed at the warm and tingling sensation.

He suppressed a groan. She was butter in his hands. Her head rested where his neck met his shoulder. He could tell her eyes were closed. »Open your eyes,« he ordered softly. »Look at my hands.«

She opened her eyelids, slowly. A feeling of vague dizziness enveloped her but she fought it. Her eyes followed his right hand. It rested on her right breast, palming it gently. The other drew a lazy circle across her belly and slid lower. He barely cupped her, causing the water to draw a different pattern on her skin. She tried to press into his hand but he would not allow her the luxury of a full touch, only a slight skin contact.

It inflamed her groin. Her mouth opened as in pain but no sound came out.

He pinched her nipple then, hard. It caused her to throw her head back slightly and stole a whimper from her throat. »Keep looking,« he commanded. He knew very well what this this whole process of 'command and obey' did to her. It wasn't so much about the actual physical contact as for the anticipation of it. Any minute, and she would start to squirm in his arms.

»You know that silver grey coat you have?« he asked into her ear.

She only nodded. It was her favourite.

»Good,« he replied and waited for her imagination to take the better of her. She pressed into his body as if it could give an answer on its own.

She couldn't stand it any longer, »What...« she knew she was breaking the 'no talking' rule, »... what about it?« He made her break it almost every time.

»Oh, Scully, you did it again,« he feigned a breathless voice on purpose and her heartbeat quickened instantly. She knew what it meant.

He stopped the water and stepped out of the shower to grab a towel. She shivered a little and waited for him to dry her skin. It was how it worked, this tactful game of surrender and control.

He stepped closer to her and crouched. He placed the towel on her ankles and rubbed gently. He felt her eyes on him but wouldn't look at her. He slid the towel up to her thighs, parting them gently. She gasped and grabbed the shower tap for support. He ran the soft towel over her swollen sex and elicited another gasp.

»Hush, Scully, that's nothing compared to what's coming.« He levelled his face with hers. Her eyes were dimmed, cheeks flushed and hair slightly dishevelled. »You look beautiful.« He gently towelled her breasts and her strong abdomen. Stopping there, wondering what force brought this woman to his life and made her stay. He tossed the towel aside and looked right into her eyes.

She smiled weakly. Her legs were giving in. »Just take me,« she pleaded.

His lips parted. He really wanted to go through with his plan but to hear her say that... He grabbed her in his arms and carried her out of the bathroom and into the living room.

The control he could exert despite his evident arousal was insane. She clutched at his biceps, the intensity was overwhelming.

He sensed the tension in her body, »I know how you feel. On the edge, strained,« he whispered into her hair while still holding her up. »I'm going to mend it.«

She couldn't look up at his face. Not like this, vulnerable from strong arousal.

He knew what was going on inside her body and mind. It turned out his ability to apply behavioural patterns went beyond serial killers. And he wasn't sure anymore it was about behavioural patterns at all at this point. »It's okay,« his voice was soothing, »I know it's intense. I want it to be.«

He let her fall on the couch in a seating position. Her hair cascaded to her face and shoulders, lips deep red and eyes icy blue, chest heaving, muscle rippling. It wasn't just arousal.

It was a circle. A circle of trust, love and respect. As he learned her she discovered him. Again and again.

He swallowed hard.

She spread her legs and drew him closer.

His hands ran along her arms and to her neck. A tremble went through his body. It was her, she was trembling beneath him. He pressed his body firmly into hers, his groin connecting with hers.

She moaned loudly, her eyes closing to the world.

»Remove my boxers with your legs,« he instructed her in a breathless voice. He was kneeling between her legs.

She lifted one leg up and with her foot she slid down his boxers. They knotted around his knees. He was hard, probably as the marble in their shower.

»I want you to stay still,« he commanded gently.

She nodded, barely. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. 'April skies,' he joked once when she admitted that intense sex could make her cry.

He nudged her opening, seeing in her face how desperately she wanted to move. He entered her just barely, pulled out instantly and nudged her again.

»Oh, my God,« she moaned and tried to bring him closer with her legs, circled around his back.

He entered her a few inches deeper and withdrew.

It was torture at this point.

»Please, Mulder,« she writhed beneath him, »please.«

His hand moved past her arm and squeezed her breast. She was moaning constantly now. Her eyes only partly open and cheeks red as blood. He gasped at the sight and couldn't hold back any longer. His hips thrust forward, penetrating her hard and deep, while his fingers pinched her nipple.

»Oh, God.«

He wasn't sure who said it. She felt hot, familiarly accommodating and maddeningly wet. God was the only thought he could muster while she was chanting something unintelligible about heavens, too.

He crossed his arms around her shoulders and back and lifted her up, never breaking the intimate contact.

»What... are you doing?« she asked breathless.

»Where's your coat?« his eyes were dark, blazing.

»You... you have to be kidding me,« she stuttered. He could have burnt things with his stare. »The closet.«

He adjusted his grip on her body and walked to the wardrobe. She was melting in his arms, his bodily moves sending exquisite shivers along her spine.

He put her down to her feet and grabbed the silver grey coat. She gasped at his gestures.

»Put it on,« he ordered.

She swung the coat around her shoulders and put it on with trembling hands.

»Leave it open,« he stopped her.

She was looking him with eyes full of naked need that it pierced his heart. It became clear long ago that whatever he did to her he did it to himself as well. Yes, it swung both ways. He fell to his knees and pressed his forehead against her soft, smooth belly.

If only he could take all the pain away...

He buried his face between her legs and breathed in. Her scent invaded his nostrils and he started to kiss her mound, her outer lips, gently, sensuously...

Tears streamed down her face.

This wasn't sex or lovemaking. This was an ordeal, a ceremony, the keeping of an oath made a long time ago.

She started losing balance, her knees were giving in. »Just finish it,« she pleaded.

»Oh, Scully,« he stood up, grabbed her behind and pressed her hard against the wooden wall. Her body quivered under his firm touch. He could hear her panting heavily as he penetrated her, watched her head trash.

»Don't fight it,« he breathed heavily, too. His hips thrust deeper into her. Once, twice. A strangled moan tore from her lips and her eyes closed in ecstasy.

»Let go,« he whispered into her mouth and then he felt it. The clenching, spasmodic rhythm of her muscles and then the perfect stillness. She was coming. He wanted to prolong their pleasure but she drew him with her into the sweet abyss. His body pressed harder into her on its own and he felt the world shatter. He came hard, starting her second orgasm.

It took some time for her to recover.

»You blacked out,« he was lying next to her in their bed, suspended on an elbow.

She looked at him with groggy eyes, »I did?«

He smiled and nodded.

She noticed her surrounding and looked at him questioningly.

»I brought you here from the wardrobe,« he explained.

She couldn't believe it, »When?«

»About an hour ago.« It amused him how confused she could get. His rational, no-nonsense partner losing sense of time and space.

She closed her eyes then. »Thank you,« she whispered.

He ran his hand over her ribs, »You're welcome.« If only he could shelter her from all the evil lurking out there.

"What?" she asked when she saw his worried look.

He raised his eyebrows. "Nothing," he shook his head.

She shifted on her side, running her hand along his cheek. "I know you're not thrilled to be part of this case. I'm worried, too."

He shouldn't have been surprised, but now and then it still shocked him that he was such an open book for her.

He nodded and kissed her palm. "I'm worried about other things, too."

"Such us?" she asked carefully.

"Doctor Richardson makes almost top of the list," he waited for her eyes to roll, her brow to arch... his balls to be kicked... but she just stared.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" her voice had an edge that secretly excited him.

His lips parted to speak but she cut him off. "What exactly scares you? That I would dump you for a colleague?" She threw her leg over his hip and straddled him.

He gasped slightly. This wasn't the reaction he imagined. "That I would go for a less handsome or intelligent man?" She thrust her groin into his and made him groan loudly. She had that look in her eyes, fierce and determined.

Boy, was he in trouble.

She didn't wait for an answer. "Or are you just downright jealous for no reason at all?" Each word was emphasized by a firm thrust. He started losing it.

He gripped her hips, "Stop." His voice was supposed to be threating but it came out as a desperate plea.

"Not a chance," she grabbed his hands and placed them on her thighs. "You have to answer me first."

He was hard under her, "I hate the guy. There's something sneaky about him."

"Really? Sneaky?" she grinded harder against his length.

"Oh, God, Scully," he groaned deep in his throat.

She was a little breathless, too. And she had to give him some credit about Richardson. There was something odd about the guy. Sometimes she thought he was pretending to run accidentally into her. Sneaky described him quite well.

"Yes, sneaky," he repeated when he caught his breath.

His phone rang out of the blue.

"See who it is," she said.

He swallowed hard and searched the nightstand with his hand, never taking his eyes off her. He really didn't want to answer the damn Blackberry.

"Shit," he cursed when he saw the caller's name. "It's Susanna."

Scully's grip tightened over his hips.

"I can call her later," he was about to place the phone back where it was. Of throw it out of the window for what he cared.

"Oh, no, you're going to answer it," she sounded so dictatorial.

He stared at her while the phone kept ringing. "You can't be..."

"Oh, yes, I can be and I am," she replied while doing a magnificent job at not coming all over him, too.

He would blame it on the reptilian part of his brains later but right then he couldn't do anything else but obey her.

"Yes?" his voice was a little shaky. He prayed to God Susanna wasn't in one of her flirting moods or it would be the end of him. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

"Hey, handsome," she greeted him.

I'm so fried, he thought. "Hey, Susanna," he tried not to sound too breathy.

"So, what are you going to tell me?" she asked, flamboyant as usual.

Scully's eyebrow arched. He was going to die, surely.

"Bout what?" he managed.

"Oh, don't play with me, Fox," she insisted in a honey coated voice.

He saw Scully mouth the word 'Fox' and quickly looked down. "Don't call me that," he replied, almost calmly.

"Why? You never complained before," Susanna sounded confused.

He looked at Scully with a meek smile and saw the murderous stare on her face. If he could run out of the window maybe...

"Anyway," Susanna continued, not minding his silence, "I need to know if you're going to help with the case."

"Yes, we're both going to help, Susanna," he hoped that emphasizing their joint effort to help the FBI would keep Susanna at bay. But no, that would be a reality a little too amazing.

"Oh, so I get to share you?" she chirped.

Scully knew that Susanna was all over him but now she had proof. It was time to take things in her hands.

"No," Mulder blurted out without thinking of the double meaning.

'No?', Scully's head leaned on one side.

He shook his head.

She started to move her hips again. He was still rock hard. Being caught in a sticky situation apparently excited him.

He tried to stop her but she knew her moves. He squeezed his eyes shut. Susanna was babbling something about the synergies of working with the FBI again and the publicity of his latest book.

"Mhmm," Mulder agreed with her.

Scully's lips formed into a wicked smile. She moved her body slightly forward and back again, letting his erection slide inside her.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. It took all his willpower not to groan in the receiver.

Scully started to circle around him, making it impossible for him to talk. The veins on his neck popped out. She was contracting her muscles around his length.

"Mulder?" Susanna asked.

Scully saw how strained he was and took the phone from his hand.

"Hi, Susanna. It's Dana. Mulder can't talk right now." She managed to sound composed.

Susanna's gasp of surprise was enough for Scully to turn the phone off. Mulder couldn't have cared less. He was lost to the outer world.

Scully leaned in to kiss him. Her lips sensuously moved against his and her tongue slid into his mouth.

He came. Silent but hard. Streaks of light flashed behind his closed eyes. His body lay limp against the pillows while pleasure still gripped her bones.

She collapsed on top of him shortly after.

They fell asleep exhausted.

TO BE CONTINUED.

So, any thoughts?

* * *

How do I make you stay

When it's easier to let you go?

Nobody knows what we know about it

No one needs to know

– Jarryd James, Do You Remember


End file.
